


Poison Devils

by Pandir



Category: Kuroshitsuji (2014), Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Substance Abuse, doctor abusing his position, dubcon, period-typical treatment of mental illness, self-destructive behaviour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:30:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandir/pseuds/Pandir
Summary: This is a birthday gift for reikashino! ❤





	1. Chapter 1

After the funeral of his late father – step-father, as it was later claimed – the insufferable, moody child was a thorn in the eyes of the closer relatives. Sole heir to both estate and fortune, the boy was in no way adequate for the position, they said, and thus the testament was a joke and dubious at best.  
So it was, naturally, to everyone’s greatest regret that his uncle suddenly revealed that young Alois had fallen horribly ill. His temperament had always been unbearable and the lack of reason in him evident, but his loving father had covered it up till his death, allowing the boy’s madness to grow. His uncle was however both rational and caring enough to give the poor delusional boy into the care of doctors, in hopes of course that his madness could be cured. But such a severe case of hysteria, the doctor decided after a long discussion with the uncle, was beyond healing.

And who would have argued against that diagnosis? It turned out that Alois was not to be reasoned with at all, uncooperative and volatile, and best observed through a small window from outside the door of his little room. He was definitely not particularly suited to be a study object for any experiments one wished to conduct in a private environment – or so Claude Faustus was told when he inquired for a patient.

Psychology was a passion of his, but his subjects rarely were as rewarding as they promised to be, and he required something new, something that would keep him entertained. He would have to see for himself, he said, whether this peculiar child was suited.

So he observed the boy by spending days in front of his room, situated on a chair, a notebook on his lap and his eyes on the small window to the room.

-

Alois was rarely quiet. It was his remarkably active fantasy that kept him occupied in the empty room. On good days, he’d laugh and play, jumping off his cot and running in circles between the close walls, mimicking noises of a sword fight. Silence was abhorrent to him. If he was not in the mood to play and just lay on the floor, starring at the ceiling above him, it would soon become too much to bear. Sometimes, he’d scream for almost an hour, loud and high-pitched and grating. He’d hurt himself, scratch his porcelain skin until it was covered in red streaks and his nails drew blood - a willful act of destruction, to defy, to tear the only thing he could in his fits of violent emotion.

When they rushed in to sedate him, he’d struggle and bite like a ferocious, savage little animal, screaming and spitting insults until he had worn himself out entirely. Then, all of the sudden, he gave up his futile fight and no longer tried to break free. He did not even flinch when the doctor approached him with the syringe. Instead, he started giggling. Softly at first, before he’d break out in a clear, ringing laugh, full of the merriness of a boy who’d just thought of a formidable joke. Claude presumed that they all were nothing but that to him, the doctor, the room – it was all a joke.

Even when Alois lay on his bed, the sedatives lulling him in, he would still tremble under small gigglefits until he fell asleep.

But Claude knew better than to assume that nothing was serious to this child. There was the silence he hated, and it was even worse at night, when the shadows crept out of the corners and the boy curled up on his cot as close to the wall as he could, whispering a made-up spell under his breath to ward the darkness off, a soft prayer for the morning to come soon. Claude had stayed until the morning hours just to listen to his mesmerizing, scared little whispers.

„A difficult case“, the doctor said, after he’d closed the door behind him. Claude’s eyes were still on the silhouette of the boy who was lying motionless on his cot now, who burned so bright it scorched his own skin, yet who still laughed in childish delight at the flickering of the flames.

There was a hint of a smile on Claude’s lips as he quietly corrected the doctor. „Alluring.“

That earned him a strange glance, but Claude did not indicate that he noticed. „I want to visit him tomorrow“, he decided.

After a moment of hesitation, the doctor nodded. „Suit yourself.“  
Claude knew he would not argue - after all he had told him, he’d certainly not mind having the little devil gone.

-

The man that had entered the room was different from the others – he wore fine clothing, his hair coiffed, and he had a cold, distant air about him. Yet when Alois beheld his reserved expression, all he saw were the man’s eyes behind the glasses as he approached the boy with slow, calculated steps.

These golden eyes were alight with a simmering fire, betraying the strict, passionless mouth, and it was consuming Alois, cutting through his flesh and laying his soul bare. The world shrank, and Alois was no nightmare, no fallen noble, no dirty monster. Under this gaze, he was just a boy, sitting on a small cot in his white, plain gown, stripped of all his secrets and lies, lonely and cornered. But nothing of that mattered, because it was only him and these eyes now, their intent gaze on him and all but eating him up alive.

A calm came over the boy, and the storm of noises and jumbled scratching thoughts subsided. He knew, with a sudden certainty, that all he’d do, everything he’d say from this moment on, would solely serve the purpose of attracting the attention of those eyes. He’d make sure they’d never stop looking at him with that hungry gaze that burned right through him, scorching, numbing, soothing.

When the doctor entered the room, he was surprised to see Jim sleeping, a serene smile on his pale lips, his head placed on Claude’s lap and one of the man’s hands resting on the soft, blond hair.  
The gesture was so unfitting for the unapproachable man, it seemed less comforting than claiming. Claude’s gaze met the doctor’s, but he kept his hand placed on the sleeping boy’s head, as if this was the natural state of things.

„I will take this boy as a subject for my studies.“


	2. Chapter 2

Alois had never been to a house like this, with rooms dark and tall, the windows framed with heavy curtains and electric lights flickering in every room and hallway. The doctor guided him up the stairs, a firm hand on his shoulder, and lead him to a small, but tidy room right under the roof.

“This is your room”, he said, and Alois eagerly stepped inside, drawn to the small attic window. He had to stand on his toes to catch a glimpse of the roof tops of the surrounding houses, but Alois decided he liked the view.

“Is it really just for me?”, he asked, delighted.

“Yes. You will stay here outside of our sessions. I will lock it for your own safety”, the doctor announced, and Alois quickly turned around at that, the bright smile fading from his expression.

“But you will still visit me, right? I will get so lonely in here”, he complained, and, ignoring the frown on the doctor’s face, he added with a mischievous smile. “Or worse, I might be naughty…”

Dr Faustus adjusted his glasses, and went on, undeterred by Alois’ impertinence. “If you need anything, ring the bell and Hannah will take care of it.”

A woman had appeared in the doorway, her white hair braided and her fingers laced together, silent and obedient. Alois eyed her suspiciously. He did not like the way she averted her gaze.

“Bathe him, and get him something to eat”, the doctor instructed her. “We will begin the treatment  
tomorrow.” He left without another word.

When Alois fell onto his bed this evening, his hair still damp and his stomach full, he grinned into his pillow, his heart thumping against his ribs and he wriggled his feet against the smooth linen, barely able to contain his excitement. _Treatment_ , the doctor had said, and it should have sounded daunting to him, but out of this man’s mouth, it was nothing but a promise. Alois could not _wait._

*

The doctor did not ask many questions. He quickly realized that Alois was too easily distracted and enjoyed being difficult – the boy seemed incapable of sitting properly in his chair and constantly picked up various items from his desk to play with them instead of giving satisfying answers. Finally, Dr Faustus put down his pen and instructed Alois to stand up, open the buttons of his shirt, pull it off and sit on a plain wooden chair in the back of the room. Alois’ emotions bubbled over in a boyish giggle, so inappropriate and immediate that the doctor shot him a glance over his gold-rimmed glasses. That encouraged Alois as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“You like watching me, don’t you? What a pervert you are~” Alois clucked his tongue, but there was a sly grin spreading on his lips. Dr Faustus’ attention was on his notes again, his pen scratching swiftly over the paper and his attention diverted.

That was not exactly encouraging. Alois felt very distinctly ignored, after all, he’d been waiting to be alone with this man, dark and fascinating, luring him in like a flickering candle attracts a fluttering moth. He would not settle for less than his full attention. He wanted to burn under his gaze.

The shirt dropped from his shoulders as he approached the desk and leaned forward, his upper body almost lying on the smooth surface. “What are you writing about with that stupid serious face?”

“Sit down on the chair, like I told you to”, Dr Faustus ordered him, unfazed, and he closed his notebook to then procure a box from the cupboards of his desk. “We will leave further interrogation for later. Judging by your uninhibited behaviour, I think it will be most effective to start with your treatment right away.”

That made Alois swallow with apprehension as he was led to the chair. He did not like syringes, and he hated being restricted, but the device Dr Faustus had taken from the box was something he was unfamiliar with – a rod with a thicker metal head that started to make a loud, humming noise as soon as the doctor had connected a few wires with the contraption beside the chair. That alone was very disconcerting, and Alois could not help but feel slightly uneasy as he stood still, allowing the doctor to pull down the boy’s undergarments without any further lewd comments. Then he sat down on the cool surface of the chair, with the doctor’s gloved hand resting just above his knee with a firm grip to keep him in place.

Alois licked his lips. “Will it hurt?”, he said, his voice suddenly very quiet.

The doctor had gone down on one knee before him, and as he looked up at him, Alois’ heart skipped a beat when the golden eyes met his.

“No”, was the dryly stated answer, then he adjusted something on the humming metal rod before he spread Alois’ legs further apart. It had been a while since Alois had last felt this exposed. “This is a vibrator. It is designed to relief you of pent-up sexual fluids due to a lack of stimulation.” The doctor’s monotone voice was nothing but professional, yet his eyes were full of studious interest. “The treatment will lead to a hysterical paroxysm, which should elevate the severity of your symptoms. If not, repetition will be in order.”

The even, distant tone of his voice made Alois want to squirm, to scream, to tear at the doctor’s back-combed hair and proper vest and stern façade. But more than his firm grip on his thigh, it was the interest in the doctor’s eyes that caused him to remain silent, as if under a spell, until the metal head of the vibrator brushed the tender inside of his thigh with a sudden, strange sensation. Alois gasped, his silence broken, and the doctor’s gaze darted upwards to catch Alois biting his lips with an openly frustrated, whining noise.

“It should not take longer than five minutes.”

The certainty of this announcement sent shivers down Alois’ skin, and the thrill of anticipation rose in him like the warmth of a heated bath.

Alois did not last three.

*

It was addicting. The treatment was repeated thrice a week, sometimes more often, when Alois was being particularly difficult. And Alois tried his very best to be as naught as he could possibly be.

His reward was to sit in front of the doctor, bare under the touch of his gloved hands, yet the nature of his administrations was both intoxicating and frustrating at the same time. Alois did not hide how much he enjoyed it, he was readily rocking back and forth, opening his legs wide and inviting the contact. His voice broke as he moaned loudly at the vibrations resonating through him, stirring him at his core like the gloved, steady hands that would administer these pleasures. He’d demand, even plead for more, for the doctor’s hands to brush up his thighs, over his hips, to pry him open and examine all of him, to lay him bare entirely under his scrutinizing gaze. But the doctor did not touch him nearly enough. He simply applied the instrument with cruel precision, and even though Alois wanted it to last, the boy was just as greedy as impatient and could not, would not restrain himself to last any longer.

If he was not with the doctor for the treatment or questioning and other examinations, Alois was left to his own devices in his little room. It was nice and comfortable, at least for Alois’ standards - the linen smelled fresh and clean, and the carpet was soft beneath his feet. Yet sitting in this small room was also incredibly dull, and especially frustrating when he lay on his sheets, the soft skin between his legs still tingling from the stimulation, and he was both exhausted but craving so much he felt like crying.

At first, Alois had started yelling, cursing and screaming, and bashing his fists, even his head against the door, but no matter what he did, the doctor never appeared unless it was time for his sessions. Even high-pitched screaming in the middle of the night did not summon him - only his servant, Hannah, this stupidly obedient woman with that pathetic look on her face.

Alois had begun to loathe her for it.

He kicked her whenever she dared to venture too close to him, yet she quietly continued with her tasks, even when he succeeded in making her trip.   
  
He smashed the dishes on the floor right in front of her feet when she served him dinner. She cleaned it up, hurriedly, and it made him want to kick her ugly face in. He opted for stabbing her with his fork instead.  
  
After that particular incident, he was now to be fed and not entrusted with cutlery. At least one of her eyes was now covered with bandages, sparing him half of her stupid look.

Alois found at least some entertainment in being as much of a hassle as possible when being fed, and once, when she dared to wipe a bit of soup of the corner of his mouth, he managed to bite her finger hard enough to draw blood. His satisfaction was short-lived, however, as she had continued with her task without reprimanding him and had not even had the decency to flinch when he clicked his small, sharp teeth at her.

Alois loathed her, but even more he hated being locked up in this room. Even the treatment was not exciting anymore. In fact, the doctor was now rather careless about it, more impatient than usual and he appeared to be disinterested, annoyed even.

Alois could not bear it.

Finally, when complaining and whining got him nowhere, Alois squirmed and resisted so violently, he managed to kick Dr Faustus right in his impassive face hard enough that his glasses were bent and crooked and he had to press a white handkerchief to his nose to stop the bleeding. It was the most ridiculous sight, and Alois laughed at him, laughed so hard he felt that he would burst from breathlessness.

The doctor said nothing, he simply left.

Hannah took Alois back to his room, dragging him up the stairs while he was kicking and screaming. This time, he was locked in his room for a whole week without ever seeing the doctor. The bruises on his legs faded along with all his initial giddiness.

For hours, Alois lay on the floor, staring at the grey sky above his small window. He did not scream, he knew there was no purpose to it now.

“The doctor says the treatment is not having the desired effect”, Hannah had told him, softly, when he had kept asking and urging her, “His diagnosis must have been wrong, I fear. He says you are definitely sick, but not in the way he had hoped.”

The harsh truth settled in, like a crushing weight on every inch of his body. The doctor had given up on him. Tears welled up in his eyes, just like the underlying panic rose within him thought of being sent back.

He would not accept it. He would not be abandoned.

It was time for more desperate measures.

*

It had been easy to convince Hannah he could not sleep, and when she came to feed him a spoonful of laudanum to keep him quiet, she found he had made a mess by vomiting all over his bed.

Appropriately shocked, she put the medicine and spoon on the bedside table and hurried to pull the tainted sheets from the bed. Alois was sitting curled up by the bedside, deceptively quiet and apparently ill. While she busied herself with fetching fresh sheets and linen, Alois quickly snatched the bottle from the table and opened it with some effort, then decidedly took a small gulp of the bitter, alcoholic liquid. He coughed, disgusted, but had to hurry to put it back as he heard Hannah’s steps nearing the door again.

It was not hard to appear nauseous after this. Alois already felt awfully queasy as she finally tucked him in.

“I will tell the doctor about this”, she assured him. “He’ll know whether this is something to worry about.”

With a content smile, Alois drifted off into a strange, light-headed drowsiness.

And sure enough, Dr Faustus had him brought into his doctor’s office not even an hour later, still dressed in his vest and dark trousers, so he had apparently not even prepared for going to bed. His questions were asked his usual inquiries about Alois’ condition. Alois already knew them by heart, and he was pleased to be able to answer them all with a very convincing “yes”.

“Are you dizzy?”

He was so dizzy it was hard to not keel over, so he leaned onto the doctor’s desk as the world was swaying about him.   
  
“Does your head hurt?”

“No, but it is stuffed with wool, really thick”, Alois drawled, trying to gesture to his head but almost faltering without the support of the desk. Like a plush toy, he thought, and giggled, delighted.

Dr Faustus nodded, contemplatively. “This is the first time you tell me that”, he noted. “You never experienced that before?”

Alois pushed himself up to look at him, even though his nausea was acting up again. “Not when you treated me”, he whispered.

The doctor’s gaze was sharp, and Alois felt like he would see right through him. He had to talk more, but the only words that would blurt from his mouth were the questions that had been burning within him for all these nights that he had been left alone.

“Why did you even want me?”, he asked, taking a wobbly step closer to the impassive figure of the doctor, presiding on his refined chair, his hands now resting on his lap as he observed him without taking any notes. “Why did you take me away?”, Alois insisted, truly upset now.

Dr Faustus had been one to finally take him out of this miserable asylum, his saviour, and he did not want to believe anything else.

“You were sick in exactly the way I needed”, Dr Faustus said, finally. “I have been studying hysteria in male patients for a while now, but lacked a case that would serve as an example for successful treatment.” He gave Alois a long look, and his eyes seemed to burn themselves into his skin, though it might have been the laudanum that had heated his insides up like this.

“But you are untreatable.” The words had a finality to them that should have hurt him, but Alois felt strangely detached from this all. It was almost like a big joke, this doctor and his silly studies. Alois knew there was no way to fix him. He was tainted and rotten, and he did not care about his diagnosis and his aspirations, he just wanted—he wanted---

Alois fell over and caught himself on the armrest of the doctor’s chair. As he looked up, even the stern look that the man gave him was somehow delightful and not at all deterring.

“Maybe you just suck at your job.” The frown on the doctor’s face deepened and Alois’ grin curled his perfect lips, wide and cruel and gorgeous.

“Doctor Faustus”, he recited the name with an overimportant air and a mocking chuckle, “acting all important, but what can you really do, hmmm?” With that, he leaned forward, his head rolling against Dr Faustus’ shoulder as he tried to keep his balance.

“My head is so heavy, Doctor”, he whispered against the doctor’s neck, and as he did not keep him from it, Alois crawled on his lap. Then the doctor’s hands were on him, but rather occupied with keeping him from tumbling over instead of pushing him back. “I’m burning inside”, Alois moaned softly, and it was true, he was so hot, it was almost unbearable, “I’m so warm, can’t you feel it?”

His shirt that served as his nightgown was soaked with sweat as he pressed against him. “I’ve had better than your stupid metal vibrator”, he mouthed, his angelic voice full of mocking disdain. “But you’re just like that thing, right, doctor? Cold and unmoving and unable to fuck me properly—“ Alois breath hitched in his throat as the doctor’s grip tightened around his leg while the other was at his neck to keep him steady and in place.

The fabric of the glove was more than distracting as it brushed up his thigh, tickling and teasing on Alois’ hot skin.

“Fuck you _properly_ ”, Dr Faustus said, his voice quiet, yet there was something darker in his tone now, dangerous and forbidden, and it made Alois head swim. “You are such a spoiled, wretched boy. I will have to coerce this wretchedness out of you.”

And with that he lifted the boy up to turn him around, forcefully enough to make Alois feel both elated and sick to his stomach, before pulling him down again so he was with his back flush against the doctor’s body. Gloved hands spread his legs, and Alois leaned back to look up him, his eyelids heavy over his clouded blue eyes. “Will it hurt?”, he moaned, softly, with a pretend quivering of his voice.

There was this look in the doctor’s eyes again, alight with the all-consuming hunger of an open flame. This time, he did not waste his time with reassuring the boy.

*

When Alois woke again from a deep, black sleep, there was a humming in his head and the bright daylight hurt his eyes so he had to press them shut to ease the sharp sudden pain like needles in the back of his head.

Hannah was there, and she had a bowl of warm water ready to drench a piece of cloth in and carefully wash the sweat off his brow.

“The doctor seems pleased”, she said, as if continuing a conversation. “He said he should have considered a change in your treatment earlier – since the apparatuses are not designed for the male body, of course, he should have anticipated they would be less effective.”

“He will still treat me, then?” Alois said, eagerly, his eyes now wide and on Hannah, oblivious of the pain. “He will keep me?”

Hannah smiled, but decidedly pushed him back. “You should not overexert yourself.”

There was something in the corner of her smile, warm yet shifting as the light of a candles. It was almost comforting, but something about it made Alois uneasy. Had she noticed the bottle had been hastily closed and a little bit emptier?

But she did not say anything else, and his head hurt when he tried to think, so Alois closed his eyes again. The night was a dark, strange blur to him, of consuming heat that had left him scorched, almost numb. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.  


“Wash my neck next”, he said, leaning his head back to expose the dark marks on his slender throat.

Alois was not as fragile as a delicate moth, luckily. He did not mind getting burned.


End file.
